


Geranium Leaf

by itsaquinnquinnsituation



Category: Newcastle (2008)
Genre: Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:27:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1377268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsaquinnquinnsituation/pseuds/itsaquinnquinnsituation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The few times that Andy surprises Fergus during his recovery from the accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Geranium Leaf

**Author's Note:**

> None of the characters or the plot of the original movie belong to me. I am not making money off my work, which is written for entertainment purposes only. Yes, it's very cheesy, but come on, that's all we need sometimes, don't we?
> 
> This is my universe and exactly how I see it. Writing should be enjoyed, not judged.
> 
> I highly recommend everyone to watch this movie.

The first time that Andy surprised Fergus during his period of recovery was about a week after Victor’s funeral, which Andy, for obvious reasons, could not attend.

They were alone in Andy’s hospital room, but they were not talking. Fergus has not been able to visit Andy much during the past week, what with Victor’s funeral and all, but the first time they got left alone they chatted non-stop until the nurses shooed Fergus out. So this time, as Fergus sat right at the side of Andy’s bed, they carried the conversation more slowly and leisurely, with long pauses, during which they just stared right through the walls, or Fergus surreptitiously stared at Andy from underneath his bright-coloured bangs. 

During one of these long pauses, where Andy was just looking straight ahead, and Fergus was absent-mindedly biting his fingernails, Andy made a small motion with his arm and placed his hand on Fergus’s knee. Fergus jerked violently and probably would have shrieked had his fingers not been in his mouth. Andy raised his eyebrows slightly.

“B-but you…” – Fergus was pointing with his widened eyes to Andy’s hand, - “you…”

“Yes” – Andy either really did not understand him or was a very good actor, - “What is it, Fergs?”

“You…” – He was eyeing Andy’s hand on his knee as if it were an extraterrestrial creature, - “But they said…”

“They said I have nerve damage” – Andy looked him calmly in the eye, - “And I do. But it concerns my sensory nerves. I can still move my arms.”

“But I thought… but I’ve never seen you…”

“You have. With the things that happened, you probably just didn’t pay attention. And a week ago, I was a lot weaker and more tired than I am now” – His eyes were so calm and sad that Fergus slowly relaxed. Andy put his hand back onto the covers.

“D-did you feel that?” – Fergus asked hesitantly.

“What?”

“The… you know… when… your hand… the…”

“You mean could I feel the difference between the texture of your jeans and this cotton blanket? No” – he shook his head and winced. Then he blinked a couple times and put a somewhat forced smile onto his face, - “But at least I can still move them. It could have been worse. Don’t you agree?”

And Fergus just looked at him lost in his thoughts.

 

 

 

The next time happened shortly thereafter, maybe only a day or two later, when they were alone again. Andy was slowly starting to get restless and irritated. He said that if all he could do all day, was just sit motionless in bed with a neck brace, he might just as well do it at home. But the doctors were of another opinion. And though Andy was still Andy, still upbeat and gentle, he was just a bit more snappy than usual. Fergus observed his slightly tense face whilst playing with his keys.

“Give me that” – Andy said suddenly, not looking at him.

“What?” – Fergus immediately stopped fidgeting.

“Your keys. Give me your keys, please.”

“Why?”

“Fergs” – Andy’s expression was so stern as he barely moved his head in Fergus’s direction, that Fergus immediately placed the keys into Andy’s left hand. Andy clenched them lightly, then frowned, then used his right palm to cover his hand, holding the keys. 

“W-what are you doing?” – Fergus finally dared, observing Andy continue to manipulate the small pieces of metal.

“It’s not working” – Andy said frowning, then pulled away his right hand, leaving the keys clenched in his left, - “I don’t have enough strength.”

“To do what?” – Fergus continued to stare at him with his wide-open eyes.

“To…” – Andy stopped himself, bit his lip, then carefully turned to Fergus, - “If I ask you to do something, will you do it?”

“D-Depends on what.”

“Just say that you’ll do it.”

“Okay” – Fergus stared into his serious grey-blue eyes, - “Okay I’ll do it.”

“Okay” – Andy gave him another long look, then reached at him with his left hand, - “Take these keys and hurt me.”

“W-what?” – Fergus swayed back into his chair as if splashed with hot water.

“Relax” – Andy gave him a tense smile, - “I’m not crazy. I’ve been reading some medical stuff while you were away and it says that human receptors for pain are different than the ones for regular touch. So I want to see if I can still feel the pain. Fergs, please” – He noticed Fergus’s terrified eyes, - “Do it for me. It’s really important. I just need to know.”

“A-are you sure?” – Seeing that Andy has not completely lost it, Fergus began to relax.

“Yes. Now” – Andy shook his left hand at him.

“Okay” – Fergus used both hands to gingerly cover Andy’s left, still holding the keys, and pressed.

Andy laughed:

“Fergs. Even I could clench my hand stronger than that. Come on, don’t be afraid, I am not going to cry.”

Fergus pressed his hands tighter. Andy’s expression did not change:

“More.”

Fergus did.

“More.”

Fergus’s knuckles went white.

“More.”

“Andy, I can’t…”

“Okay that’s enough.”

Fergus immediately let go, then took his keys out of Andy’s hand and examined it. The keys left severe red impressions on his fingers and palm. Fergus frowned his brow but when he looked up, he found Andy smiling.

“And, did you feel it?”

Andy beamed:

“A little.”

 

 

That was it for that day, but it did not end there. When the next day Andy asked him to prick him with a needle or a paperclip, Fergus sternly declined. No matter how long Andy tried to explain to him that it was his body and he was free to experiment with it, Fergus did not want to hear it and refused to give Andy anything sharp. It was the first argument that they had, if you can even call it that, but it left both of them tired and depressed. Fergus realized, of course, how confused and scared Andy must have felt to see his strength but not his feelings return as the days passed, but it was beyond Fergus to repeatedly inflict pain on his friend. 

They sat in heavy silence, pouting and gloomy.

Suddenly Andy spoke, voice barely above whisper, still not looking at Fergus, or anything at all, as though he was thinking out loud and unaware that he was sharing his thoughts with a friend.

“Well, you have no idea” – He muttered, - “You’ve no idea what it’s like… to think that you can never again get to feel it… when someone is holding your hand.”

Fergus lifted his head in a jolt. There were tears in Andy’s voice.

 

 

That was probably what changed it all for Fergus. It began as a little pseudo-science experiment that slowly turned into an elaborate project. He maintained that he would not hurt his friend anymore, and he kept his word, but he had a better idea. He started with the simplest.

“Can you feel that it’s cold?” – He let Andy’s fingers slide along the side of some long metal tube he found in his hospital room.

Andy shook his head.

“Can you feel that it’s smooth?”

Andy shook his head but with a little less certainty.

Fergus smiled slightly:

“OK, now try this one” – He gave him a nail file.

“You carry this shit around?” – Andy narrowed his eyes at him, smiling.

“Nah, I asked one of the nurses. Said I was going to cheer you up with a manicure.”

Andy snickered.

“Well, can you feel the difference?” – Fergus returned his attention, pointing with his eyes to the file. – “Can you feel that it’s rougher than that tube?”

“I…. I’m not sure. Maybe a little?”

“Okay” – Fergus took away the file and gave him the tube again.

“What the fuck is this for, anyway?”

“Probably some kind of punishment if male patients are being rude.”

“Punishment?” – Andy smiled mischievously, - “You’d call it a punishment?”

Fergus’s cheeks started to glow bright red:

“Don’t get distracted. Now, your blanket.”

“What’s with it?”

“Can you tell that you’re squeezing it? You can’t squeeze the tube, ‘cause it’s hard, but you can squeeze the blanket. Can you feel yourself doing it?”

Andy thought for a second:

“I think I can feel my muscles doing it. Not sure I feel anything else. Is that how it normally should be?”

Fergus squeezed the blanket himself, then made a face:

“No idea.”

 

 

In about a week Andy was able to tell the difference between soft and hard objects very well, followed by rough and smooth objects, though he still struggled a lot with identifying what things were made of. Fergus made him play various games, such as he would give him three objects and make him feel them, then ask him to identify them again with his eyes closed. Sometimes he succeeded and then he was overjoyed, but he oftentimes failed naming things that Fergus put into his hand spontaneously. 

During one of such experiments, a doctor walked in on them. 

“Hello, gentlem… What’s going on??” – His eyebrows shot up almost to the roots of his hair.

“Uh” – Fergus’ followed his look to Andy’s hand and felt his face heat up in an instant. In it was a light blue pantyhose that he borrowed from his neighbour’s clothesline earlier that morning, - “That’s not… that’s not what…”

“Silk!” – Andy interrupted him with a sudden shriek. He had his eyes covered with his other hand and was seemingly unaware of the doctor’s intrusion, - “Silk! That’s silk, Fergs, am I right?”

“What’s going on?” – The doctor repeated.

Andy turned to him with a smile on his face. The fact that he was holding a woman’s pantyhose with another male friend in the room did not seem to bother him not one bit.

“He is teaching me to feel again” – He said without a hint of sarcasm.

The doctor just nodded, but Fergus felt his heart start to race so much that it felt ready to jump out of his windpipe. He is teaching me to feel again. He didn’t mean it like that of course but he is teaching me to feel again. He is teaching me to feel again.

Meanwhile the doctor was studying both of them with a dumbstruck expression and rubbing his chin.

“Well” – the doctor said finally, adjusting his round eyeglasses on his nose, - “Well, actually this might not be such a bad idea. There’s no guarantee, of course, that your nerves will regain their function, but you can certainly train your brain to identify whatever the signals it is getting from your neurons with more precision. So yeah” – He eyed the pantyhose again, - “I guess what you are doing might be of some help.”

Andy turned to Fergus and waggled his brows. Fergus’s face was tomato juice red. 

 

 

 

Andy was allowed to go home a couple of days later but it not only did not hinder their experiments, but rather, allowed them to become more elaborate. Fergus long since lost count of the number of objects that he’s given to Andy. It wasn’t just Andy’s hands that were affected however, but his whole arms and parts of his chest, so there were quite a few opportunities for him to make Fergus uncomfortable. Andy joked that he would not request Fergus to put whipped cream on his chest but Fergus only chuckled, unsure. This game would have soon become tiresome, perhaps, but Andy’s limitless fantasy and huge amount of fun he was having, sometimes appearing to play like a little boy, made it a favourite pass-time for Fergus. 

“Wet cardboard? Wet cardboard, Andy, for God’s sake, how is it different from regular cardboard?”

“If it’s not different, why are you making that face?”

“And where in God’s name should find you a rabbit’s foot, Andy? Will the neighbours’ kitten suffice?”

“Scissors! No, no, tweezers, tweezers! Fergs, did you bring your whole manicure set with ya again?”

“Uh… uh…. Feels like a little fence… haircomb!”

“Nope, nope, can’t feel that, go a little lower!”

“Andy!”

Andy just laughed and laughed until he was red and in tears and Fergus just loved him right then, his long waivy light hair, his thin lips, his wild blue-grey eyes, and he would have climbed up a bean-stalk all the way to heaven for him and got him a souvenir star if he wanted it. 

 

 

 

One day, a few weeks after the accident, Fergus was going to drop by Andy’s house before going to work. It was an early shift that day, so chances were high that Andy could still be asleep, however, his back door always stood open and his mother already thought of Fergus as her own child. He didn’t care if he didn’t have time to talk to him, because even seeing him for a moment was enough to get Fergus through a boring long day at work. It was about seven o’clock and it was a bit misty on the beach and Fergus enjoyed the breeze and the coolness of air. On the outdoor windowsill of Andy’s mother’s room he spied a pot of geranium with abundant pink flowers. Tiny drops of rain sat in pure glass domes on the fuzzy green leaves. Without thinking, he ripped off one leaf.

He made his way through a somewhat messy house to Andy’s room. It faced the ocean, but of course, Andy was a free spirit, and it had a huge open window. Fergus quietly opened the door and walked in.

Andy was laying on his back across his bed, feet hanging off the side, in his blue water trunks and a white-and-grey t-shirt, his face, though soft and gentle, sported a mischievous smile, even in his sleep. Watching his splayed out arms and legs, Fergus stomped in himself the desire to just jump on top of him right then and there, and instead, just focused on his face and wickedly stretched perfect thin lips. Beautiful, beautiful he was, beautiful but not innocent.

“You dirty bastard” – Fergus whispered with a smile, leaning over him, absent-mindedly dragging the geranium leaf along his lower arm.

“Mhmfffs” – Andy whined turning to him and before he could know it, clasped his hand over Fergus’s fingers.

Usually, Andy was not a very light sleeper.

“Tt… you wanker! Wake up, wake up!” – Fergus’s eyes were wide, stare locked on Andy’s hand. Through both of their fingers, he could see a scrunched up green mass.

“What?” – Andy finally opened his eyes, - “Fergs? What are you…”

“You dickweed” – Fergus laughed, climbing on top of him and shaking him with his other free hand, - “You little bastard, when were you going to tell me?”

“What?” – Andy sat up and tried to make a serious face, but it wasn’t so easy with Fergus basically sitting in his lap, - “What are you talking about?”

“The leaf! The fucking geranium leaf! You felt it even in your sleep, you bastard, when were you going to tell the doctors?”

“It’s pretty amazing, no?” – Andy looked like a cat, - “Are you mad?”

He kicked Fergus off of himself and they laid side by side on Andy’s bed, fingers still tangled over the fuzzy green culprit.

 

 

A few days later, during a follow-up visit, the doctors told Andy that although his sensory neurons were not back to normal (some medical mumbo-jumbo about how most people can discern two pinpricks as separate when they are two millimeters apart, and Andy only at one centimeter – Andy really didn’t care to listen that stuff all that closely), with how much sensation he was able to regain, he would barely notice any impairment in his day-to-day life. Oh, and they also cleared him to be surfing again. He ran home almost not touching the ground, stopping by Fergus’s house on the way, dragging him out of bed as he was resting after an overnight shift, and taking him to the beach. On the beach, they celebrated by splashing in the water like two little kids, chasing each other until they were out of breath, and laughing, and laughing, and laughing.

Then they were stretched out on washed-out beach blankets, Andy on his back, squinting against bright sunrays, Fergus on his side, staring at Andy, just like he was some months ago, when Jesse’s friends took him out camping, when Andy told him that it was okay to look. And he thought that this was a different Andy now, not the same mysterious, unattainable Andy, Andy that he was afraid of and that he admired, Andy that he was, just hours later, so terrified to lose, but this Andy now was his best friend and buddy, one that he was deeply in love with and would do anything for.

He did not notice it, how his fingertips started drawing designs on Andy’s bare chest. Andy opened one eye and pointed to Fergus’ hand with his chin:

“And what’s that?”

Fergus yanked his hand back as if burnt. He blinked hastily, searching for words:

“That’s… well… you know how we… well… you know… how the doctors said…”

“Fergs. Today the doctors said that I’m fine. That it probably won’t get any better, but that I’ll be fine.”

“Uh…Uh-huh.” – Fergus did not dare to look at him, face already going red.

“So we don’t need that anymore.”

Fergus felt his blood go cold.

Andy turned to him:

“Fergus.”

Fergus continued to look at the sand, so Andy scooted up and snaked his arm around him to lift up his head so their looks would be forced to connect.

“Fergus” – Andy said pointedly but with a light gentle smile, - “You don’t need to make excuses anymore. *We* don’t need excuses anymore.”

Fergus blinked a few times, repeating Andy’s words in his head, but he didn’t have any time to dissect them, to mull them over and to arrange them on the shelves in his brain, because then he was suddenly not seeing anything, because there was breeze, and sand, and sunrays everywhere and he was swimming and drowning and flying in them, because Andy was kissing him, Andy was kissing him and pulling him down onto his chest, running his fingers through his jet-black hair, and he knew there and then, that it would never end, this moment of truth, this moment of peace, this moment of love in this paradise town called Newcastle…


End file.
